


Reunion

by bigbrainsmallpp



Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, I'm Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:34:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24138937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigbrainsmallpp/pseuds/bigbrainsmallpp
Summary: Set during Book Three, this is a fic I wrote based on the topic "reunion"
Relationships: Halt O'Carrick & Will Treaty
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> Look I’ve never written a full fanfic. Like a lot of people, I’ve done semi-solid ideas for a story or some shitty short, incomplete, terribly written Wattpad “fanfic”, but that’s usually it. So I decided to enter in Aseikh‘s RA writing collection thing based on the idea of “reunion”. However, I learnt about it two days before it ended and thus never finished/submitted it. Now I’ve actually nearly finished it and thought I’d share the story to see if anyone liked it. So here y’all go

His hands, bloody and roughly calloused, were caked in the grime and splinters that came from the hours spent labouring on the paddles (although it didn’t matter, he couldn’t feel his hands, he couldn’t feel  _ anything _ ). There was no feeling in his legs but a tired aching pain that was rooted in the deepest part of his bones. The Old Will would keep going,  _ just one more push, just one more movement,  _ he would hold out hope that someone would find him, protect him, take him away and make him forget ever being here but Will now knew that having any thoughts of freedom were pointless and irrational (some deep, hidden,  _ selfish _ part of him wishes, only when he’s too tired to move or fight back at night when it’s finally silent, that Halt would come charging through the snow and rescue him, take him back  _ Home _ ).

It happens the day after a storm.

Will dragged his arms around and around in circles, muscles aching and stiff from the labour, pushing through the water that is still slightly frozen from the previous night despite hours of work and effort. The scars and bruises on his back felt like they were tearing into him, with the sticky feeling of blood pumping from a wound given to him the previous for his disobedience ( _ he had earned it, he’d broken the rules, it was his fault, it was his fault, it was his fault)  _ that had been torn open from the continuous movement. He lifted his head to view the rest of the grounds, mind still clouded and hazy from the warmweed remaining in his system. A shadow flickered across his eyes but there was something so familiar about the movement, about the way his heart pumped slightly faster and his mind, both warm and frozen, raced with hope (cross it out) intrigue at the image that calmed him down. A familiar figure emerged, dusted with light snow and a familiar mottled cloak that would blend with the shadows when the wind made it sway. Will’s voice, hoarse from unuse, made no noise. Instead, a sob was caught in his throat, that choked him from the inside out with a sense of relief. He saw Halt look up and meet his eyes and for once since his arrival in Skandia, the warmth consuming him did not come from some kind of drug. His feet had supported him for so long that they became too tired and worn down, so he could not move as Halt walked his way towards him. The older man scanned him up and down as Will hung his head in shame, feeling snowfall from the top of his hair and into the dirt and dead grass under his feet. Suddenly two arms are wrapped around his torso and the cold that he’d been surrounded by thawed out by the feeling of pure relief. Will felt his knees buckle as he leaned into the hug, silent cries turning into deep sobs and wails. He buried his face into the thick mottled cloak, feeling tears seep into the material. Snow turned into dirt under his knees and he could hear Horace’s heavy and relieved breathing in the background. The trees that blocked the sun swayed gently as the beast’s breath slowed to silence. In the distance, he could hear the cheers of the other hunters, proud of their conquest and triumph. The blood on his hands started to felt too sticky and his heart was still racing from when the boar had charged at him.  _ The boar… no no, th-that’s not right.  _ His heart started to pick up again, beating louder and louder in his throat and ears as the familiar haze of warmweed overtook his vision.  _ No, no no no it’s real, he’s here, I’m going home, it has to be real _ . Slowly, Will looked up at the world around him and saw no sign of Horace or Sir Rodney or the dead boar or the familiar trees surrounding Redmont. He saw no sign of lush greenery or blood on his hands and  _ there were no signs of Halt. _ He registered that the only thing that was real is the snow soaking into his knees and the tears that flowed down his face, still spilling into the earth under him. 

Will returned to the small piece of the shelter he had to sleep in and saw it just as messy and filthy as the day he had arrived. When he finally lay down, his joints and muscles began to relax as they had been finally given a break and he felt his face begin to drip with water, whether from his own tears or the ice finally beginning to melt in his hair he did not know. All that he knew was the warmth under his tongue and the fact that it was just him alone in this now. No one was going to come for him and no one would be there to, eventually, see him die amongst the snow. 


End file.
